365 Drabbles
by ObscureEnough
Summary: Miscellaneous crossovers written for the 365 Drabbles livejournal community. The aim is to write 100 Buffy/crossover drabbles over the next 365 days.
1. Hell

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Hannah Montana

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><p>Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer<p>

Claim: Crossovers (Hannah Montana)

Rating: PG

Drabbles completed so far: 1/100

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><p>This was Hell.<p>

Purely and simply, this was Hell.

Maybe he should rephrase that: this was HELL!

How the hell had he come to this? It was … bloody unbelievable, that's what it was. Last thing he knew, he was burning up inside the Hellmouth, giving his life to save the world, and next thing he knew he was a ghost, of all things, stuck in the Malibu-style house of a single dad with two kids. Two teenage kids. The elder of which was a teeny-bopper 'rock' star who sang all kinds of painful twaddle when she wasn't mooning around with her bloody kiddie friends. Even the Slayer and her pals weren't this bad, surely.

And it only got worse. 'Cause the father? Some bloody rockabilly wanna-be, who kept asking him, surely he knew! Bloody mullet-headed hillbilly. Who the hell knew about some bloody stupid song called 'Achy Breaky Heart?'

Simply put: Hell!


	2. Moving On

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Firefly

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><p>Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer<p>

Claim: Crossovers

Rating: PG

Drabbles completed so far: 2/100

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><p>They were gone. Buffy had fallen to some demon's lucky day, Willow had become one with the Mother until she'd faded from the mortal realm, and Giles had simply passed one evening, seated in front of his fire, with a new ancient text resting in his lap. Dawn had grown up to be a fine woman, and he'd kept an eye on her children and grandchildren on Earth, and then tracked them as humanity fled Earth centuries past. Angel had attained his redemption and his humanity, while Spike had gone down in a blaze of glory not long after Buffy had fallen, but this time there was no funky necklace to bring him back. There were more names, more faces, but each of them had passed, and now only he was left.<p>

He adjusted the strap of his duffle, and passed the old man listening intently to the showman/ship's captain. In passing, he heard the old man tell the captain, who'd called him 'grandpa', that he'd never married, and he gave a huff of laughter. He kept walking, looking at ships, looking at hawkers, just looking. He turned back after a while, and made his way back along the line of ships, and saw the same old man he'd heard earlier being escorted onto an older Firefly by a girl that reminded him, oddly, of Willow. There was something in her cutely curious expression that tugged at him, and he stepped forward.

"Got room for one more?" he asked.

They were gone, and now only he was left. Time to gather a new family?


	3. Pink, Fluffy Tutu

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Harry Potter

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><p>Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Buffy, Faith and Willow)<br>Claim: Crossovers (Harry Potter)  
>Rating: PG<br>Prompt: First Person  
>Drabbles completed so far: 3100

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><p>I just stood there. Stunned. Utterly bloody stunned. I've lived in the Muggle world, and I've lived in the Wizarding world, and I don't think I've ever seen, heard, or even imagined anything so bizarrely insane as what we were looking at this very moment.<p>

Voldemort, wearing a pink, fluffy tutu, dancing about, singing, 'I'm a Little Teapot.'

And that twang you just heard was my brain breaking.

And look! We have company. A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead. The brunette looked like she was about to piss her (gulp!) skin-tight(!) leather pants, the blonde looked a little constipated, and the redhead was blushing fit to match her hair. Wonder if she's any relation to the Weasleys?

"Giles is going to have a fit!" the blonde muttered.

"Oh Goddess," the redhead breathed. "I have no idea what happened. It was supposed to render our big bad harmless, but I was thinking something like Gr'nthor's arm's falling off, or something like that. I have no idea who this is, or how this happened."

The brunette appeared to have stopped laughing long enough, because she then said, "Don't think these people are going to have a fit, Red. You might need to wake them up, though."

I shook myself, and walked forward, holding out my hand. "I'm Harry," I said, and if my voice was a little shaky, _Voldemort was wearing a tutu! A pink, fluffy tutu!_

The blonde shook my hand, a bright, practised grin in place. "Harry, hi. Is this, by any chance, your big bad?"

"Uh, yeah," I nodded. "He was trying to take over the, um, Wizarding world."

The blonde looked at me shrewdly. "Were there prophecies involved?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," I nodded again.

The brunette sobered, and made a face. "Ah, fuck," she grumbled. "I guess we should be glad Xan isn't here."

The other two exchanged horrified glances at the thought, and nodded. The blonde then looked at the sword in her hand, and, taking a look at it myself, I realised it was enchanted. "So," the blonde said, "you need help, uh, getting rid of him?"

"Like, slaying with extreme prejudice?" the brunette asked hopefully.

I waved a hand in Voldemort's (a pink, fluffy, bloody tutu!) direction. "Go for it," I offered.

The blonde squinted at Voldemort (a tutu! for Heaven's sake) then moved forward quickly. She raised her arm, made her calculations, and make a quick swipe. Voldemort's head went one way, and his body went the other, and I think we all felt the magic sweep over the place as all his horcruxes were disempowered. I smiled slightly. There was no coming back for him now.

The blonde nodded firmly, and cleaned her sword. "Right. Baddie slayed, now it's time to party."

The brunette nodded in agreement. "Scooby motto: we came, we slayed, we partied."

The redhead chewed her lip. "Well, I guess it will keep me away from Giles for a little longer." She looked at the other two. "Will you make sure I'm drunk before we go home?"

The brunette slung her arm around the redhead's shoulder. "Don't worry, Red. I'll make sure you're well and truly pissed before we go home. Jeeves can yell all he wants, and you'll be feeling no pain."

The redhead smiled brightly. "And we can always tell him it could have been worse: we could have brought Xander!"

The blonde shook her head. "There's always a bright side. So," she went on, turning to me, "where do we go for the post-slayage party?"

I blinked. I shrugged. I had a feeling that, when it came to these three American women, you just went with the flow, Hero of the Wizarding World, or not. "Sure. I know a place around here."

I wonder if I could meet this Xander they were on about?

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><p>AN: I have amusewithaview (Twisting the Hellmouth) to thank for the description of Voldemort. I was reading a post of hers, and she used that as a comment. I read it, and just had to write something.


	4. Truth Trumps Lying

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or House

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><p>Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Buffy)<br>Claim: Crossovers (House)  
>Rating: PG<br>Prompt: Everybody Lies  
>Drabbles completed so far: 4100

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><p>Buffy rolled her eyes at the doctor in front of her. All she'd wanted was to get her arm set, and if she'd been anywhere near the Slayer house, of if there'd been anyone available that she'd trusted, then she sure as hell wouldn't have been here. Here, of course, being Princeton Plainsborough Teaching Hospital's free clinic.<p>

The doctor was a pig.

First, he'd try to look down her top. The only reason he was still standing was the fact that he used a cane to walk with, and she wasn't quite up to assaulting the invalid. That point was getting closer every moment she remained in his presence, though. Then he'd come up with the oh, so brilliant comment that everybody lies. Well, duh. It was practically a job requirement for her. 'Cause she could really tell the general public that the thing that attacked them was a vampire/demon/insert nasty of the week here. 'Cause that always went down so well.

"So how did you break your arm?" the doctor asked, with more than a smidgen of smug superiority in his voice.

Buffy looked at him, and decided to tell him the bald, uncensored truth. "I was fighting with a serparvo demon, and the only way to kill those is by drowning, so I had to fight it over to a fountain, which was, like, twenty feet away, and those things are tough, I can tell you that. It's dead, so no probs there, but," she gestured to her arm, "he managed to get some good hits in."

The doctor looked at her, eyes wide. "A what?" he demanded. "No, wait, I don't need you to do that again. For a whopper like that, you get a lollipop, and pink cast. How's that?"

Buffy gave him a _look_. "Oh, thank you, heroic doctor person." Oh, well, if you're going to be accused up front of lying, you might as well make it a good one. And the truth always trumped a lie. Not to mention the mauling she was going to give the bed when he set her arm. Buffy smiled to herself. Let him explain that one away.


	5. Not Your Problem

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or NCIS

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><p><strong>Fandom<strong>: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Oz)  
><strong>Claim<strong>: Crossovers (NCIS/Gibbs)  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: The need to hit something  
><strong>Drabbles<strong> completed so far: 5/100

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><p>Oz cocked his head, but didn't smile. Somehow, he doubted it would be taken well. The older man looked rigidly furious, and Oz knew he was pissing the man off simply by his existence, let alone any ill-timed facial expressions. It wasn't his fault he was stuck in the middle of this brouhaha, but he didn't think that it would really matter to the senior investigator. He had a serious case of 'pissed off and needing to hit something.'<p>

The fact that his case had a severe case of the supernaturals wasn't helping at all.

"It's not going to work," Oz offered calmly.

Gibbs glared at him, and Oz knew it for a good glare. Giles, on occasion, could work up a good glare, usually when Xander had just made the mood-breaking quip, and just before everyone relaxed. He didn't think anyone would be relaxing just yet.

"Then what will?" Gibbs demanded.

"Nothing you have will work," Oz explained simply. "It's not a problem you're equipped to deal with."

Gibbs scowled. "So what are you? CIA? NSA?"

Oz shook his head. "I'm not from any agency you'd know about." He smiled sweetly. "I'm just a guitarist with a fur problem. And cool friends, who've just fixed you're problem," he added, turning to see a tall dark-haired man and a small red-haired woman wave to him.

"Fixed?" Gibbs growled.

"Yeah," Oz smiled again. "Uh, nothing that you'll be able to take to court, sorry, but you won't have any more of those problems you've been having."

"What. Are. You?" Gibbs snarled as he loomed over the smaller man.

Oz let his smile grow cold and his eyes change colour. He let his mouth drop open to show the lengthening canines. "Nothing you want to know about," he growled softly. "Leave it at that."

Gibbs stilled, then backed away. His need to do something, hit something, had drained away. He glanced at the couple approaching, now frowning at him. He looked back to the young … man in front of him, and nodded once before turning back to his team. With a peremptory gesture, he gathered them together and led them away.

"Oz, man," Xander greeted. "Everything cool?"

"We're copacetic," the werewolf nodded. "Let's motor."


	6. Turn the Wheel

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Firefly

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><p><strong>Fandom<strong>: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Xander)  
><strong>Claim<strong>: Crossovers (Firefly)  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: A Life Relived  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far<strong>: 6/100

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><p>If he cared to look, the signs were everywhere. Zoë reminded him a lot of Giles, with her cool reserve. Or maybe it was Deadboy, except she didn't brood. That was more Mal's job, when he wasn't pouting about how he was the Captain, and yet nobody listened to him. One of the other new passengers, Shepherd Book, reminded him of Giles, also, as an educated man, with a hidden darkness.<p>

Kaylee, the engineer, was so sweet. She was a little bit Tara, and a little bit Willow. Wash was him as a teen, before the Hellmouth had wrought too much damage. He kind of wished he could get back to that, but centuries had passed, now, and he was pretty sure that part of him had been scoured from his soul. Jayne, the man with the girl's name, reminded him – for all the differences in appearance – of Spike, except that Spike had a tongue on him as sharp as his own, while Jayne just looked like he wanted to clobber him. And the lovely Inara was Cordelia with a lifetime's worth of Companion training. He could see Cordy in this woman, perhaps clearer than any other part of his old life in his new.

Another new passenger, Dr Simon Tam, reminded him a bit of Wes, with his cool precision and his lack of social graces. Watching him with Kaylee reminded him, sometimes, of Wes and Cordy, except Kaylee could never be the woman that Cordy always had the potential to be, and so had never held his attention in _that_ way. And the good doctor's sister, River… She was Drusilla, and Buffy, and Dawn, even, sometimes. He knew there was more to her than the others saw. More that _they_ did to her.

If he looked, this was home, and this was Hell, and all things in between that he had lived before, and yet it was all fresh and new, with new joys and new heartaches for him to bear. Life lived and re-lived. Time for his next trip round the wheel.


	7. The White City

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or The Lord of The Rings

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><p>Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Giles)<br>Claim: Crossovers (Aragorn)  
>Rating: PG<br>Prompt: City  
>Drabbles completed so far: 7100

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><p>Giles looked up, and found himself speechless. Even in this direst of times, the White City astounded with it's gleaming beauty. He had lived in London, visited Los Angeles, and many other of Earth's great cities, but this was beyond anything he'd seen before. Rome had her majesty, but this, Minas Tirith, stood tall and blinding in the sun.<p>

"Beautiful, is she not?" a voice murmured past his shoulder.

Giles turned back to see the rather disreputable-looking Ranger who had led them here. "It is majestic," he said simply.

"Once, the White City was full and busy, but now much of it has fallen into disrepair. I fear that worse is yet to come before she can once again shine with her true beauty."

"She awaits her King," Giles tried with a sidewards glance.

The Ranger, Aragorn, gave him a long, measuring look. "She prospers under her Steward," he shrugged.

"A Steward is not a King," Giles countered.

Aragorn shook his head. "When it is time for Gondor to have a King, Gondor will have a King."

Giles studied the man beside him, then nodded. "May we both see that day," he said finally.

"May we both see that day," Aragorn, son of Arathorn, murmured in agreement.


	8. Chasing the Moonlight

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Transporter

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><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Angel)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Frank Martin)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> Moonlight  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 8/100

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><p>Angel clenched his jaws, and clenched his hand on the arm rest, and, frankly, didn't care if he damaged it. He had no idea where Harris found this man, but something he was certain about was that it was definitely his idea of a joke. A horrendous, cruel, nasty practical joke. He cringed, and felt the arm rest begin to give as the driver somehow twisted the vehicle through another corner.<p>

"Any idea why Harris said to chase the moonlight?" the driver asked, flicking a glance at the night sky.

Angel grit his teeth again. "I have a sun allergy," he tried not to growl. Did the man have to drive so damn fast? _Spike_ would be concerned.

"There's this thing called sun cream, now, you know," the driver, Frank, if he recalled correctly, smirked.

"Doesn't work," Angel ground out. Was Frank even human? Could he eat him?

"Yeah? Sounds like you're fucked, then," Frank smirked.

'Only if you're as bad a driver as I think you are,' Angel thought. "It is a complication," he admitted. Maybe he was Harris' illegitimate father. That would work. Except that would mean he was human. Unless Frank was a demon that could pass for human, which made Xander a half-demon. That would work.

"Another two hours to our destination," Frank announced.

Angel closed his eyes. Great. Another two hours with Xander's demonic, illegitimate father, who drove worse than Spike. Oh, well, if he survived this, then he was assured of his redemption. Maybe he could even swing the Shanshu prophecy on the basis of surviving this. Maybe he should thank the half-demon demon fighter.

Nah.

The boy was a half-demon. He'll just keep Xander's secret for him. That was enough.

Now if he could just survive this demon's driving practices in one piece.


	9. Diary 1 of 3: Sickening for a Slytherin

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Harry Potter

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><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Andrew)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Draco)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: Journal Entry  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 9/100

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><p>Dear Diary,<p>

Wow! Just Wow! I got the latest Harry Potter book (or, as I like to think of it, Draco Malfoy is Hot book) and I'm going to lock the door and read.

Well, after I finish this.

Ciao.

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><p>Draco frowned when a sheaf of parchment fluttered to his desk. He picked it up carefully, and read it. He blinked. There was a book about Harry Potter? Harry bloody Potter? Several books, it would seem, and he was included. By some adolescent girl who thought he was 'hot'. Well, at least she seemed to have taste. He sneered as he crumpled the parchment, and tossed it into the fire.<p>

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><p>Dear Diary,<p>

OMG! He's a Death Eater! Noooo! He can't be! Well, at least Narcissa got Severus to promise to protect him. Such a relief! That cutie patootie needs someone at his back. Preferably me, but Severus Snape will do.

Ciao.

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><p>Draco snatched the parchment out of the air as it fluttered down, and read it. Merlin! His Death Eater status is news? After all these years? And what's this about Severus promising to protect him? Merlin, but this child was … ill, surely.<p>

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><p>Draco was beyond annoyed. Every couple of days, he would receive some insipid child's love-lorn ramblings in the guise of journal entries. What's worse, the silly chit was re-hashing incidents that happened during his dread sixth year at Hogwarts. He shuddered at the memory of all that had happened during that horrendous time. How could anyone idolise the arrogant, fearful, horrible child that he was then, all for the sake of 'that silken hair, and those beauteous silver eyes.'<p>

His jaw tightened. "I wish I could meet this fool of a child," he sneered.

He never heard the snickering 'done' that echoed through the dimensions.


	10. Diary 2 of 3: Not What I Expected

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Harry Potter

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><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Andrew)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Draco)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> Run  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far<strong>: 10/100

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><p>His heart was pumping, and his lungs were burning. He was pretty sure he'd <em>never<em> run this fast, like, _ever_ in his life. He wasn't even sure how he'd gotten here, but however he'd gotten here, it was all _wrong_! Nothing had turned out the way it was supposed to, _nothing_!

Well, Draco was just as hot as he'd always known he'd be, but _that was it_! And that sneer! It was perfect! Not ever Spike's sneer was that good. Of course, it was aimed at him, but wishes and horses, and all that.

Wishes! That had to be it!

But he hadn't _wished_ for this. Not even in the privacy of his own journal. Not even in his real journal that was hidden under his mattress, with a specially made cloaking spell that he knew he could get to work on the Scooby-mobile, if ever Xander would let him get one, and name it, and …

Oh, right, _running_!


	11. Diary 3 of 3: Distracted Mercy

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Harry Potter

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><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Andrew)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Draco)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> Mercy  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 11/100

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><p>In the end, Draco proved himself to be more of a man than Andrew had ever expected him to be. After all, it wasn't Draco's fault that Andrew's private journal had somehow been spelled to send entries to the person he was writing about. (Thank God he'd never gotten around to writing that stuff about Xander!) And it wasn't Draco's fault that he'd never heard of Wish Demons. And it wasn't Draco's fault that Andrew had conceived the teeniest, tiniest man-crush on a (well, in their dimension, at least) fictional character.<p>

Draco had been merciful. Sarcastic, but merciful. And distracted.

By Xander, as it turned out.

Willow had managed to pretty quickly follow him, and the whole gang had come after him. Well, not Buffy, because she was busy in Rome. And Giles was busy, too, being Mr Super-Watcher in London. But Dawn was there, and Willow, and Xander. Spike, too, but he didn't really help. He was too busy laughing his perfect ass off. Stupid, stinky, uber-hot vampire.

And they had arrived in the nick of time. Draco had finally caught up with him, and was prepared to do Goddess knew what to him, when Xander had bowled out of Willow's portal and commenced to tear proverbial strips off him. In front of Draco. Who was so impressed that he just about propositioned the Slayer's White Knight then and there.

Xander had squinted at the wizard, and had decided that, since he used neither bleach nor gel, wasn't a demon, and didn't want to kill him, his gender didn't actually matter, and maybe his kind of magic would actually behave around the Founding Member Scooby. They'd had a trial kiss, which was drool-worthy even just to watch, and Xander had decided to stay in Draco's dimension for a while. Willow and Dawn had agreed that he needed some time off, and to check in every now and then.

Andrew stiffened his spine, and girded his loins. Metaphorically, anyway. So meeting Draco turned out to be very different to what he'd expected. So one of his favourite, watchable Watchers was staying behind. At least someone got to have some fun. Oooh. And fantasy material!


	12. Never Too Old

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or NCIS

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><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Giles)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Gibbs)  
><strong>Rating<strong>: NC17  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> Touch  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 12/100

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><p>Very few men of Giles' acquaintance were like Gibbs. Giles had grown up with smooth hands, smooth faces, smooth tongues. Smooth manners told smooth lies to hide their secrets. Nothing like this.<p>

Even during the period of his rebellion, they liked to count themselves rough, rough words, rough manners, but, for all their nastiness, they were still nothing like this. Gibbs would have torn them to pieces, and left them lying in his wake.

There was probably only one man of his acquaintance like Gibbs, and he was _not_ going to think about Xander's hands, wood-rough like Gibbs, holding his cock, stroking him. No. Gibbs was the man he was with, with his sharp words, and blunt manner, and unsoftened hands stroking firmly over his body, bringing him back to the now.

He moaned.

Gibbs stroked deep within him, rubbing one calloused finger over that wondrous nub. "God, Gibbs, hurry it up, would you?"

"Got all day, don't we?" Gibbs teased.

"Technically," Giles sighed, writhing gently. "Not sure I can last that long, though."

"Guess I better get a move on, then," Gibbs smiled.

"Please," Giles urged, spreading his legs further for the other man.

Gibbs made quick work of opening the man laying beneath him, and finally slid inside, taking a moment to calm down as Giles adjusted to his size. "Ready?" he grunted.

Giles let his hips thrust up in reply. Gibbs made eye contact with the Englishman, and grinned, then began to thrust in earnest. Giles let his head roll back, and revelled in the feel of the rough man above him, rough fingers, rough words, rough shield around a surprisingly generous heart, once you had wormed your way in. He felt his hands slide over him, and was happy to be contained in the now, where a rough hand gently seized his aching cock, and pumped in time with his thrusts. He ran his hands over strong muscles, and brought his legs up over still-lean hips, and returned what energy he could to their mating. He felt those strong hips stutter even as he felt his body tighten down into a bright point, and then explode into pleasure even as he felt heat gush within him.

Giles opened lazy eyes to look at his lover. Gibbs slumped over to the side, and looked back at him with a soft laugh. Giles reached over a ran a smooth hand over a strong bicep, and smiled. _Some_ might call him old, but he could still feel.


	13. If Only

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or X-Men

A/N: Kind of a follow up to Chasing the Moonlight

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><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Angel)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Remy)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> If Only  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 13/100

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><p>If only that annoying prick really <em>was<em> a half-demon. It would make it _so_ much easier. He could whisper sweet nothings in William's ear, and let him go to town on the boy. After all, William could hurt _demons_, couldn't he. And William was always good at making excuses. And it would certainly relieve a little of the tension he was currently feeling.

If only he didn't need this amulet so much that he would put with even a certain smirking, Cajun thief who may or may not be a demon. With his explosive cards, and his fancy walking stick, and his 'ah but, mon cher!' Damn pretty boy with attitude.

Of course, Harris warned this Master thief that he was a vampire. Because he wanted to make sure Gambit didn't accidentally light him on fire, or something. And he _knows_ that Xander knows that he isn't allergic to garlic, just that it _stinks_ to high heaven.

If only that God-damned, bastard, son of a bitch didn't have so many _good_ contacts, then he wouldn't be reduced to being so damn reliant on the boy.

If only.


	14. So Many Trees

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Stargate SG1

A/N: Ha! An actual 100 words. I'm not usually so disciplined. So pleased with myself.

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><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Xander)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (SG1)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> Forest  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 14/100

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><p>"Don't say it," Jack warned. "It's <em>my<em> line."

Xander pouted.

"It really is," Sam sighed. "He says it _every single time_."

"Unless, you know, it's not there," Danny added helpfully, earning a glare.

Xander considered using his patented Puppy-Dog Eyes, but opted not to. Best to leave the big guns for more important matters. Like guilting Jack out of his jello. He quickly hid a smirk at that thought. "But I want to," he whined.

"Nope," Jack rejected out of hand. "It's mine."

Xander sighed heartily, and gazed around. So. Many. Trees.


	15. They Won't Know What's Coming

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Pitch Black

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><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Spike)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Riddick)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> Sunshine  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 15/100

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><p>He squinted into the light, and decided he was glad he'd got his Shanshu, even if it did mean he'd been transported to the arse-end of the Multiverse. 'Cause the bloody Powers couldn't just let him get a prize and bloody well <em>enjoy<em> it, now could they? No. He had to prove himself to be a true Champion (don't forget the capital, now) and then get spend his reward far from anyone he'd ever cared about, or even known. What he'd give to have someone from his old life here. He'd even take the boy. Hell, he'd even take The Great Brooding One.

Three bloody suns. That just wasn't right.

He wasn't the only one to think so, either. The behemoth with the full-contact sunnies didn't much like the suns, either. Photo-sensitive, he thought the term was. Bet his night vision was vamp-like, though. Nice piece of meat, that, too. Fast, strong. Would've made a brilliant Childe, not that he could do anything about that now. Human, he was now. Bloody Poofters That Be.

He squatted in front of the silver-eyed criminal, and smirked. "So what are you, anyway?"

"Does it matter?" Riddick rumbled.

Spike looked around, and let his gaze drop onto the merc. "Not really. You look up for some fun, though."

Riddick chuckled, a wicked, dangerous sound. "Oh, I'm always up for fun."

Spike looked at Riddick again, and felt his spirits lift. His old unlife had ended, but things were now looking up. With someone at his back, he could do anything, go anywhere. He could be … free. He stood, and walked away, making his plans for getting out of here, away from this hell of a planet.

They'd never know what was coming.


	16. The Eyes Have It

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Lie To Me

* * *

><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (The Core Scoobies)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Dr Cal Lightman)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> No Dialogue  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 16/100

* * *

><p>Well, this is interesting. There they are, expecting trouble, and are mostly angry about it. There. The dark-haired male with his shoulders hunched, arms folded, and lips twitching, thinning, eyebrows flicking down. Defensive and angry. The little redhead is wide-eyed scared, and the middle-aged man is contemptuous, his lip lifting and his nose wrinkling. What does he have to be contemptuous about?<p>

And the most interesting thing is how each of them keep glancing to the little blonde. The little, angry, contemptuous blonde who thinks we're all idiots, and know absolutely nothing about what's going on. And who expects to be blamed for whatever is going on, and is a little scared about it.

Here's a bit of fun: make a move toward the little redhead, and watch the tribe gather around, protectively. The boy's head comes up, and his arms drop to his sides, clenching and unclenching as he flexes his shoulders. The blonde moves forward, too, head down, jaw clenched, fists clenching, while the older man stands back, head twitching back and to the side as his lip lifts slightly. He thinks less of me for attacking their weak link, and trusts the younger ones to protect her. I back off, but they don't. Interesting.

I place a photo of the dead girl on the table, and they all look at it, and the grief is there, written on their faces. Interesting how the blonde and the two males feel that they failed her, while the redhead is purely and simply sad. She covers her mouth, and looks away. The boy's jaw clenches, and he looks away, too, down at the floor, fists clenching yet again. He knows exactly who, what and how, but he's not telling. He blames the blonde a bit, though. The lightening-quick, tight-lipped glance gives that away. The blonde sees the glance, and accepts the blame, reaching out to take the photo. She strokes the girl's face, then gently places the photo back on the table, tired sadness making her face droop.

She looks up, now, resigned. She glances at the boy, who takes her look, and nods, flashing a small smile. He blames her, but she didn't kill the girl, and he forgives her that much. That's obvious now. Something she did resulted in the girl's death, but she … didn't do that. Not that.

I ask who did it, and get the strangest reaction of all. They all know who did it, but none of them think I'll believe it, and whoever it is scares them to varying degrees. Little Red, again, is straight out scared, not much flavouring there. The boy is scared, and, strangely, a little aroused. Whoever it is is someone he would ordinarily be attracted to, and/or who came onto him at some point. So … female? The older man is displaying anger and grief with his fear, which makes no sense, unless the woman was a lover, or killed a lover, or… And the blonde? Anger, fear, hatred, and … satisfaction.

Well. That's it, then. Whoever did this has been dealt with somehow.

The blonde looks up at me, suspicious. I shrug. Not much the police can do if the woman who did this is … gone, now, is it? The surprise on their faces, opening their eyes and their mouths, is very … satisfactory. The blonde's shoulders are still stiff, not trusting me, but when I smile at her, and nod, she nods back, eyebrows pulled together while her lips were pulling into a slight smile.

I suggest she calls the police if the woman ever comes back, and there it is again. Amused contempt pulling at her lips as her head lifts and nostrils flare, while Little Red again widens her eyes in fear. The boy's head drops as his shoulders hunch, and the older man just looks sad, with a little anger to spice it up.

I would love to know who it is, but I already know they're not telling me. They've decided that, to quote that movie, I can't handle the truth.

Shame they don't know that curiosity is my besetting sin.


	17. SoulMates

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Warner Bros. Cartoons

A/N: This prompt called for me to work outside my box, so here it is. First up, I hand-wrote this, which I never do. I have arthritis, so hand-write as little as possible. Secondly, it features Anya, which I don't do. She's okay, but I've always considered her Cordelia-lite, so prefer to use Cordy for that kind of thing. Finally, I'm not sure that I've written anything in solely a letter format. Anyway, enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Anya)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Elmer Fudd)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt:<strong>Our Of Your Box  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 17/100

* * *

><p>Dear Xander,<p>

I know I'm supposed to start this letter with 'Dear John,' but your name is Xander, so I have decided to flout convention, and address the letter to you instead of John. Whoever that may be.

Well, now that I've said that, I guess you know where this is going. I'm dumping you. By letter, no less. And I will totally understand if you wish to call vengeance down on me (his name is John, funnily enough) but I'd rather you didn't. You see, I've met my soul-mate.

He's a dear little man (little being the operative word, he only comes up to my breasts, but I don't think that displeases him at all – they are very nice breasts, after all) and while his penis isn't a nice as yours, it is still very nice, and my orgasms have been more than adequate in terms of quality and quantity. But as you have told me several times, there's more to a relationship than just sex. Though it is fun.

You see, dear Elmer is my soul-mate because he shares my views on … on … I can't even write it. Oh, I'll just have to finish here. It was very nice knowing you, and the sex was great, but this must be goodbye.

Kind Regards,

Anya

* * *

><p>Dear Xander,<p>

Please don't wish vengeance on Anya, because she just couldn't help it. We are in love, and are going to KILL THAT WASCALLY WABBIT IF IT'S THE LAST THING WE DO!

Sincerely,

Elmer Fudd

KILL THE WABBIT!


	18. A Different Life

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Criminal Minds

* * *

><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Xander)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Kevin Lynch)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> Two Paths Diverge  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 18/100

* * *

><p>He looked across the table at his new-found twin, and considered how different their lives were. They had been separated at birth, and had lived ostensibly normal lives until their teenage years. Kevin had obviously gotten the lions share of the brains, because he was a geek, a tech-head of the highest degree, playing with computers for the FBI. He, meanwhile, had gotten … well, he wasn't quite sure what he'd gotten, but he must have gotten something out of all of this. He certainly got the path less travelled, what with the demons, vampires, and hell-goddesses that had littered his life so far.<p>

And yet… And yet he wasn't sure he would change a thing.


	19. The Precipice

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter

* * *

><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy: the Vampire Slayer (Xander)  
><strong>Claim:<strong> Crossovers (Asher)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> Standing on the Edge  
><strong>Drabbles completed so far:<strong> 19/100

A/N: This is actually related to another story I wrote, Life Goes On. When I saw the prompt, I immediately thought of Asher's response. This story can be found at misse[dot]livejournal[dot]com[slash]21148[dot]html

* * *

><p>I feel like I'm on a precipice, staring into an eternity that may or may not include you. I recall the first time I met you, a star-struck mortal, awed by my golden beauty. Of course, I never showed you how marred that beauty was on that day. I simply ignored you as the mere human that you were. Why you were such obvious friends with the werewolf was vaguely intriguing, but I was more than able to disregard you at that point.<p>

There were more meetings, I know that; three of them, if I recall. I could smell your lust, and noticed your blushing glances, but you were still unworthy of my attention, or, at least, that was how I felt. Finally I decided to deal with you once and for all. I turned my attention on you, and seduced you. Not that it took much to do so. You were already so infatuated with me I did not need to use any of my powers to draw you in. I simply gave you a little of my attention, and you flew to me like a moth to a flame. When I finally had you where I wanted you, I exposed myself to you, stepping into the light and sweeping back the veil of my hair. In that moment, I expected horror, revulsion, and a swift getaway.

You shocked me. There was a moment of profound understanding which staggered me then, and staggers me now. How you, an ordinary, unmarked human, could possibly understand my pain beggars belief; I do not understand it. And yet you did. There was no disgust, no horrified sympathy as you backed away from me. Instead, you smacked the wolf, and called him a moron, before turning back to me. Instead, you reached to touch me, meeting my eyes for the first time (for all your infatuation, you ever treated me with the cautious respect meet for a vampire.) Your gaze sought my permission, which I, astounded, gave, and you touched me, grazing your fingers over my scars, and now I find myself here, on the edge.

I think I shall fall.


	20. Odd

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or NCIS

* * *

><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer

**Claim:** Crossovers (Gibbs)

**Prompt:** Not Perfect

**Rating:** PG

**Drabbles completed so far:** 20/100

* * *

><p>Gibbs let his mind drift as his hands worked to smooth the wood frame of his latest project. Vance had asked him to take on a new batch of interns, something he normally hated, with special attention to be paid to one in particular: Xander Harris. It seemed he had an odd background, not that McGee had been able to find anything solid yet. His hometown had fallen into a sinkhole nearly ten years ago, which meant that pretty much everything prior to that time was gone. There were occasional mentions of him in state-based databases, like his birth certificate, bank records, and his driver's licence, but beyond that he was as much of a mystery as any other former-Sunnydaler.<p>

He'd recently graduated with an odd combination of Criminology and Military History majors, but that made him a little more appropriate for something like NCIS rather than a more mainstream agency, but the oddness extended beyond his choice of college majors. He was apparently new at law enforcement, yet his first scene, a particularly brutal murder, hadn't even caused him to do more than blink. He'd even pointed out that they were missing part of the victim's arm, something none of the experienced agents had noticed until after he'd pointed it out.

If only McGee could come up with more background on the kid, he might be a bit happier. Vance seemed to know something, but Gibbs wasn't sure he'd be able to get it out of the man. After all, there was only so far even he could push. Maybe Kort could find something out from his network. Of course that would probably mean he owed the man a favour, and he had to figure out if he really wanted to be in that position.

He sighed, and turned his mind back to the wood under his hands. The situation was far from perfect, and he needed to think longer on it.

bFandom:/b Buffy the Vampire Slayer

bClaim:/b Crossovers (Gibbs)

bRating:/b PG

bDrabbles completed so far:/b 20/100


	21. Come To Tea

Disclaimer: Do not own or claim rights to Buffy or Firefly

* * *

><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer

**Claim:** Crossovers (River Tam)

**Prompt:** Shock

**Rating:** PG

**Drabbles completed so far:** 21/100

* * *

><p>It was certainly a surprise. Waking up in a strange bed, which turned out to be on a strange <em>planet<em> in the freaking _future_ would surely be shock enough for any man or woman, alive or otherwise life-compromised. At least he had company (insert sarcastic tone here.)

Oh, Angel was loving this (again with the sarcastic tone.) Here he was, stuck in the future with his number one, favourite human (apart from some guy named Holtz, which Deadboy refused to talk about) and there was nothing he could do about it. They had been tossed here by a sorceress – not a witch, because witches are nice, but sorceresses are evil, and neither of them were debating the morals of the woman who'd sent them here.

Apparently (and he knew he was overdoing the sarcastic tone here, but who the hell cared) _one_ of them had upset the sorceress, but she was short-sighted, and they had been standing together, and birds of a feather and all that sucked big time. Since neither of them had gotten a glimpse of the woman before she'd cursed them, and neither of them would admit to pissing anyone off lately (though it wasn't him, he swore) neither could say which was to blame.

So here they were. In the future, and Earth was long gone, apparently, to some apocalypse of supposedly mundane origin. And now there was a girl of maybe Dawn's age, dancing around them like Drusilla (which seriously freaked _both_ of them out) telling them that Miss Edith would have invited them to tea, but she'd been left at home, and there was only green tea left, but would they come?

Xander turned to glare at Angel. "So very your fault," he decided.


	22. To Submit

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Anita Blake

* * *

><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Xander)

**Claim:** Crossovers (Jean-Claude)

**Rating:** PG

**Drabbles completed so far:** 22/100

**Prompt:** Alternate Reality

* * *

><p>What a choice to have to make: submit to the Master of the City, or find a new place to live. Not much of a choice, especially since, wherever he went, the local Master was still going to want him to submit. At least Jean-Claude wasn't too bad as vamps go. Sure, he was a vampire, which was bad, but this type weren't the good old Hellmouth type (point A in his favour) and JC was pretty reasonable as local vamps went (point B in his favour.) Better the devil you know, really.<p>

Of course, the whole reason people wanted him in the first place was because he was unusual; unique, technically. After all, to his knowledge, he was the only person who had been tossed through the dimensional portal into this reality. Thanks, Hellmouth, really. And this being 'marked' business? So not fun. Who knew that working beside Buffy, Willow, Tara and Spike (and maybe even Angel and Anya) for so long would 'mark' him. He 'reeked' of power, according to Anita. (Charming woman, that, totally able to give deportment lessons.)

More than anything else, though, was the power he'd been given. Or something. Being Hellmouth born and bred seemed to have imbued him with power. Unlike even Anita, he was immune to pretty much all vampiric psychic powers, while making him a necromancer like Anita. Which brought him to another issue: if he submitted, Anita would take him under her wing and apprentice him as an animator and necromancer. There really wasn't any way around it: he had to submit, tie his fortunes to a vampire of all things.

Wouldn't Angel laugh if ever he knew.


	23. Bait

Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or The Big Bang Theory

**Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer

**Claim:** Crossovers

**Rating:** (PG)

**Drabbles completed so far:** 23/100

**Prompt:** Rise

* * *

><p>The silence was broken by a long, low moan. The blonde gave the ascetic man a brief look, then glared at the brunette standing guiltily before them. "You broke him, you bought him," she decided.<p>

* * *

><p>"No, no, no," Sheldon argued. "This is simply not logical. You cannot make matter 'disappear'. You can transform matter into energy, but it doesn't just disappear. This is not Star Trek, people, and even then matter is transformed into energy before it is transferred by very detailed and elegant equations to another point in the space-time continuum where it is transferred back into matter. It does not disappear."<p>

Dawn rolled her eyes. "I didn't say it disappeared," she huffed. "I said it was magic –"

"Ah!" Sheldon interrupted, holding a finger up.

Dawn glared at the fellow-genius. "You show me that finger again, and you'll lose it, and I won't even have to use magic."

"There's no such thing as magic," Sheldon pouted.

Dawn raised an eyebrow.

Rajesh leaned over and whispered in Howard's ear.

"Sucker bet," Howard sneered, but shook his friend's hand.

* * *

><p>Rajesh sauntered out of the apartment, gleefully twirling his brand new ten dollar note between his fingers. He may have come from an over-crowded, if affluent background, he may be a physicist, but his momma didn't raise no fool. Of course magic was real. You just had to call it hyper-advanced physics or something. And it was always fun to see Howard rise to the bait. Of course, it was going to take a while to get Sheldon back into working order, but that was for other people to worry about.<p> 


	24. Oops

Don't own or claim rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Harry Potter

**Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer

**Claim:** Crossovers (Voldemort)

**Rating:** PG

**Drabbles completed so far:** 24/100

**Prompt:** Everything is Broken

* * *

><p>"Oops."<p>

Xander hated that word. Especially when it was said in that particular, sheepish tone. He eyed the embarrassed blonde. "What did you do, Buffy?"

Buffy brought out a dustpan full of shells and shards of glass. "I kind of, maybe, slightly broke your lamp. And I have to say, you own one butt-ugly genie, which you were going to tell us about, when?"

"My lamp," Xander whined. "I carried that lamp through six border crossings, Buff. It was a gift from a very important village elder. I can't believe you broke it."

Buffy stared at her friend. "It was ugly, Xander. It was cheap-looking, at kitschy, and just plain ugly. In fact, I think it was even uglier that ithe genie/i that came out of it. You know, the three-wishes-giving type thing that normally lives in lamps?"

"The what now?" Xander asked, suddenly catching onto the second half of Buffy's confession.

"The genie," Buffy repeated, gesturing over her shoulder.

Xander looked up, and found a rather disgruntled, snake-faced genie-looking being scowling at him. "Huh," he grunted profoundly. He stepped around Buffy to find that, in accordance with Disney, the genie dwindled down into a ghost-like tail. "How'd I get a genie?"

"You owned the lamp?" the genie asked in a voice reminiscent of Giles in a snit. "Bloody muggles," it spat.

"You're a genie," Xander observed, dumbfounded. When the genie rolled its eyes, and nodded, Xander went on carefully, "And you're imy/i genie?"

The genie simply chose to continue scowling in lieu of an answer.

Xander raised an eyebrow. "You know, you're not a very nice genie. You have a name?"

The genie raised his scowl to a thunderous glare, but didn't answer.

Xander folded his arms, and settled into a stance locally known as 'pissed off, now, so watch it.' "Genie, you will tell me your name."

The genie narrowed his eyes, but ground out, "Voldemort."

Xander turned back to Buffy, head cocked to one side. "Wasn't that the name of that dark wizard that kid defeated a few years ago?" he asked.

"Yep," Buffy nodded, grinning. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Xander flashed her his 'I'm a devious bastard, and loving it' grin. "I'm thinking you have a stylish-but-affordable wardrobe that frequently requires special attention. You know, khekht ichor is a real pain to have to get out, isn't it."

Buffy bounced on her toes, her grin reaching blinding proportions. "It surely is, Xan," she agreed amicably.

Xander turned back to the genie. "Right, so, Voldemort, wasn't it?" When the genie nodded grudgingly, Xander continued, "Your instructions are as follows: You will clean and maintain Buffy's clothes, footwear, and accessories as required. I may add other duties at a later date, but that will do for now. Buffy will show you where to start."

With that, Buffy lead the genie to the storeroom now known as Buffy's closet. Even though it was some distance, Xander could clearly hear the genie's wail when he saw what he was expected to do.

Xander picked up the phone, and called his mentor. "Giles, I just wanted you to know that I've managed to find a fix for Buffy's wardrobe issues. Also, could you let the Ministry of Magic know that we have found out where old Voldie got to, and to let them know he's being suitably punished."

Xander ended the call to the sound of hearty laughter, and grinned. Well, it was an ugly lamp, anyway.


	25. Please

Don't own or claim rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Torchwood

**Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer

**Claim:** Crossovers (Captain Jack Harkness)

**Rating:** PG-13

**Drabbles completed so far:** 25/100

**Prompt:** Let Me Down

* * *

><p>"Oh, I don't know," the hot (Xander wasn't saying it, but…) older guy said, "I think you look pretty good there, personally."<p>

Xander snorted. "Oh yeah, I'm a regular decorative item."

Bright blue eyes ran over Xander's long form. "You certainly are," the other man leered.

"Look," Xander began crossly, only to frown, confused, "uh, what was your name?"

"Jack," the other man grinned.

"Jack, right," Xander grunted. "Look, Jack, I get that we have a mutual appreciation thing going on, but I really would rather be somewhere other than here. And, frankly, my shoulders are getting a little sore. I'm surprised your shoulders aren't killing you," he pouted, unhappy to be outlasted by the other man.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Jack nodded, "they are. I just have something to distract me," he smirked.

Xander scowled. "That better be my hot bod distracting you, not my predicament." Xander's eyes widened when he saw Jack's smirk widen to a leer. "Uh, I mean… Well…"

"Oh, it's your body," Jack chuckled. He twisted to look at his own arms, chained above his head. "Only fair when I find myself in the same predicament. But my friends should be here soon," he muttered, trying to access his wrist-strap.

"Out of the two, I think I'd prefer to be rescued by your friends," Xander offered. "They're less likely to laugh about me being a d-, uh, trouble-magnet. So that thing's functional?" he asked hurriedly, trying to cover his slip.

Jack glanced at the younger man. "Yeah. It's a high-tech communicator thing, which would be useful if I could get to it," he grumbled.

Gun shots were heard, and both men turned. "Your guys?" Xander asked hopefully.

"Sounds like," Jack nodded.

Moments later, the cell door flew open, and two dark-haired people dashed in. They immediately flocked to Jack, helping him down and undoing his shackles. Jack took a moment to flex his shoulders before crossing the distance to where Xander hung.

Xander gave his best puppy dog eyes. "Jack, I promise, I'll do just about anything if you'll do just one thing for me."

Jack put his hands to Xander's hips, and smirked.


	26. Connections

Don't own or claim rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or NCIS:Los Angeles

* * *

><p><strong>Fandom:<strong> Buffy the Vampire Slayer

**Claim:** Crossovers (Hetty Lange)

**Rating:** PG

**Prompt:** Autumn

**Drabbles completed so far:** 26/100

* * *

><p>"I miss the turning of the leaves," Giles sighed.<p>

"I hear Devon has a lovely showing this time of year," the positively diminutive woman responded.

The Englishman gave the woman a sharp look. "Quite," he murmured noncommittally. "Not too many garden gnomes, though, thankfully."

The woman nodded at the jab, then sighed. "What is it that you want, Dr Giles?"

Giles raised surprised eyebrows at the woman's sudden capitulation. "Tea, Ms Lange?"

"I would love some," Hetty agreed with a wide smile. "And an explanation of what the Watchers Council requires of me."

Giles smiled as he made a fresh pot. "Simply to re-form connections. You know, of course, that things have changed?"

"Things always change, Dr Giles," Hetty nodded, "it is a condition of our existence."

"I would like to think that these changes are beneficial to our organisation, and to the world in which we live," Giles offered.

Hetty shrugged. "That remains to be seen. I still fail to understand what that has to do with me."

"I believe someone once said that old agents don't retire, they simply go deeper under cover," Giles mused. "You have had significant exposure to our world; this will never leave you, and I simply want to assure you that we are available to help. Also, we would like to be able to call on you in certain situations."

"Unlike you, I am not ultimately in charge, and may not be able to assist you as you require," Hetty argued.

Giles smirked at one of the most extraordinary people he'd ever met. "I do believe, Ms Lange, that you are limited only by whatever it is that you choose to be limited."

Hetty took a delicate sip of her tea, and smiled. "You are such a flatterer, Rupert."

* * *

><p>For those not obsessed with minutiae, Hetty's Cold War nickname is given in episode 2.09 <em>Absolution<em> as _gartenzwerg_, which means garden gnome.


	27. Prices Paid

**Disclaimer:** Don't own or claim the rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Torchwood

**Prompt:** Somewhere Only We Know

* * *

><p>"I would have thought you'd get vertigo up here," Jack offered as he approached the dark-haired man.<p>

Xander turned back, eyebrows high in surprise. "You hadn't heard?"

Jack narrowed his eyes as he considered the man before him, now – apparently – sporting two eyes. He reached up to tentatively touch Xander's left cheek, noting the still-instinctual flinch. "Is it real?"

"Really real," Xander grinned.

Jack scowled. "I refuse to talk to you if you're going to start quoting children's movies."

"Didn't one of the Doctors have something to say about that?" Xander teased, patting his pockets.

"Not my Doctor," Jack sniffed. He smiled slightly when Xander laughed, and the two men turned to gaze out onto the still-awake city. "She finally figured it out," he added after a moment.

"Yep," Xander nodded. "There was a price, though. Well, two prices: the magical one – it hurt like buggery, which is a really odd saying, because if you do it right, which you do, then it doesn't hurt; and Will's price."

"Now, I get the oddest feeling that you're trying to lead me astray, Xander," Jack smirked, "talking about sex right before you mention Willow's price, naughty, naughty. So what promise did your red-headed friend extract from you? Let's see," he mused, "you have to sire her love-child? Oh, I know," he brightened, turning so he stood mere millimetres from the other man, "you have to move to Cardiff and become my love-slave."

Xander chuckled, and dropped a quick kiss on those tempting lips before sobering. He sighed. "I'm not human anymore," he shrugged.

"What?" Jack demanded hoarsely. "What did she do to you?"

"I agreed to it, Jack, okay?" Xander soothed. "She made it a condition, but I agreed to it. It's just… We may be doing this for a lot longer than either of us originally expected."

Jack blinked, then stepped back to look Xander over more closely. "She didn't make you immortal," he denied.

Xander frowned. "Not … exactly. Just, just a hell of a lot harder to kill. I heal better, quicker. I may not come back from the dead like you – at least I don't think I will – but I am a lot harder to get rid of. Sorry," he added with an unrepentant smirk.

Jack turned back to look out on the city. "Oh, well, if that's all," he shrugged.

Xander chuckled at the man now standing beside him. "So… Sex?"

"Hell, yeah," Jack grinned as he grabbed Xander's hand to lead him back downstairs.


	28. Go South, Young Man!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Stargate

**Prompt:** Cold

* * *

><p>Xander hugged himself through the heavy coat he was wearing: it was freaking freezing. All he wanted right now was a nice warm bath, in an overheated bathroom, with a boiling hot coffee. Or, you know, to be back in the US where there was actual <em>heat<em>. Or pretty much anywhere other than where he was, which was in freaking _Antarctica_. He knew there was a reason for him to be here, he just wished there wasn't, which would have meant, of course, that he wasn't here. And that would be such a shame. 'Cause had he mentioned: _cold_.

"Yeah, yeah," Xander muttered, "sit in the chair and think cosmic thoughts."

"If it's possible for you to think," Dr McKay muttered. "Why is he even here?" he added, raising his voice. "He works for a bunch of ghost chasers; surely that means that he has insufficient intelligence to be of any use, regardless how strong an expression of the gene he has."

Xander rolled his eyes as he approached the throne-like chair. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Because, Lord knows, you've got personality enough to work the thing," he added, smirking. He'd heard about the good doctor's special deficiency. He sat down, and relaxed into the chair which automatically laid back into its active position. And Xander assuredly didn't squeak when it did so.

Rodney scowled at the ease with which the ill-trained monkey made the Ancients' chair work. He huffed. Proof positive that the gene wasn't linked to intelligence.

Xander laid in the chair, watching the hologram go through its motions. "So… We done here?" he asked hopefully.

"Nope," came a new voice, and General O'Neill walked into view. "You made it work, so you better get used to living down here."

Xander whined.

"Oh, yeah," Jack gloated, "you'll want to pack some more winter woollies."

Damn gene. Damn Giles for agreeing to this. Damn cold.


	29. No Fate

**Disclaimer:** Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Terminator

**Prompt:** Fate

* * *

><p>I stare at him, and I wonder if this Fate thing truly exists, or if it isn't some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy thing. After all, Buffy was told that she would fight the Master, and she would die. But what if she had never gone down into his lair that night? Would she have faced him that day? At all? Would she have died that night, or would she have gone on to live for years without touching death quite so closely?<p>

And what about John? He couldn't have even been conceived without someone trying to beat fate, thereby sealing his existence. And, of course, the secular prophecy given to his mother _ensured_ he would be raised to be a great leader, surely the ultimate in self-fulfilling prophecy.

Maybe Sarah and, by extension, those before her had it right: _There is no fate but what you make_. Maybe we need to remember that when we read the old prophecies. And doesn't that make things all shiny and new? No fate. Dangerous, though, and maybe a little subversive: No fate, but what you make.

So who's up for some subversiveness?


	30. Looking Back

**Disclaimer:** Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or Harry Potter

**Prompt:** Grow Old Together

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><p><em>Grow old along with me!<em>

_The best is yet to be_

If she'd thought about it when she was a teenager, she would have assumed the person beside her would have been Xander, or maybe Oz. She'd even told Oz that she believed that one day she would turn a corner in Istanbul and see him, but it had never happened like that. Instead, he'd died some years earlier, giving his life so that his children and the rest of his pack could get free, get back to the Council.

Xander, meanwhile, had someone of his own to grow old with, and she was happy with that. He had been the Heart of the Scoobies, and had grown to be the Head of the Council, stepping up when Giles had retired. The Council had blossomed under his rule, with the Slayers as full partners with their Watchers, and the future looked good for the next number of centuries.

Instead, she'd found someone new. Well, old now: they'd been together nearly forty years, and she was only thankful she could blame her white hair on her magic, which had leached the colour out decades ago. Of course, Remus had been rather shocked the first time he'd seen her work her magic; wanded magic was very different to her form of Earth magic.

It was odd how she'd ended up with another werewolf, yet it seemed so right. Xander had laughed outright when he'd met her then-boyfriend. As he explained it, her first love had been a werewolf, her second was witch: it only made sense that her last love be a magic-using werewolf. The one thing that had linked the three was their gentle peace that grounded her, made her whole. And if Remus was older than her, well, it wasn't like Buffy could talk, and wizards like Remus lived very long lives, and he would likely outlive her. Which was sad, but it made for a long and happy life together.

"You're in a very reminiscent mood this morning," Remus murmured as he brought her a cup of tea.

"Just thinking about us," Willow smiled as she caught his hand, "and about how lucky I am."

"No luckier than I," Remus argued. "I sometimes wonder how your friends ever let an old man like me court you."

Willow snorted. "Like they would argue. Besides, Xander liked you, and that was all it took."

"Do you know he threatened me with a silver shovel when I first asked you out?" Remus mused.

Willow smiled. "That's my family."

_The last of life, for which the first was made:_  
><em>Our times are in His hand<em>  
><em>Who saith, 'A whole I planned,<em>  
><em>Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!'<em>

**_Robert Browning_**


	31. New Tales for Old

**Disclaimer:** Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or The Sentinel

**Prompt:** Rain

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><p>Oz lifted his face to the rain, and felt it wash away the world. He'd heard this place had about the highest rainfall in the world, and it was certainly living up to its reputation. Of course, rain made it hard to smell things, so that made it harder for him to avoid others. How his stalker had kept track of him, he didn't know. In fact, he hadn't known he'd had a stalker until said stalker dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder.<p>

The guy who'd grabbed him was huge, like Angel-huge. Oz dropped his shoulders, and tried to make himself look small and inoffensive as possible; he had a feeling the man would not tolerate another predator on his turf. To the side, another man was babbling excitedly, not unlike Willow at the prospect of new information, but the big guy was the one he needed to impress with his lack of aggressiveness.

"Cool it, Chief," the larger man growled. "Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my town?" he demanded.

"Oh, come on, Jim, let the poor kid go," the smaller man frowned, though Oz noted that he made no move to interfere. "He's not doing anything; I don't think he's dangerous."

"He smells like … wolf," Jim frowned, glaring straight at Oz. "I don't trust him."

"You don't trust many people," the smaller man smiled fondly. He frowned. "He's not like … uh, you know, is he?"

"I didn't say he smelled like _her_," Jim frowned, "I said he smelled like a _wolf_."

Oz darted a look up at the man through his eyelashes; it wasn't the time to be staring straight at a larger predator. "Am," he murmured.

"Uh, what?" the smaller man asked, puzzled.

Oz looked up at Jim, and raised an eyebrow. When the other man gave a slight nod, he glanced at Jim's companion. "Am a wolf. A werewolf, but I control the change. I don't hunt, either."

"Whoa," the smaller man murmured, eyes wide. "Is that … are you for real? A were-"

It was just as well that Jim had clamped his hand over his friend's mouth at that point, because not only was he getting dangerously loud, but his pitch was getting uncomfortably high. Oz shook his head to clear the squeak, and glanced up at Jim's scowling face.

"My place, for explanations?" Oz offered.

Jim sighed. Just what his life needed, more complications. "Fine. Lead the way."


End file.
